


Put Your Little Hand in Mine

by pendrecarc



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ten in Ten Challenge, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/pseuds/pendrecarc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Reese surprised Shaw by having her back (and one time she got to return the favor).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Your Little Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Given the timing, I don't think I'll be able to actually post fic every day of [astolat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat)'s [Ten in Ten challenge](http://astolat.dreamwidth.org/264510.html), but it's worth a shot.

 

001

 

It wasn’t that Cole hadn’t been able to fire a gun. It was that he’d been shit at it and froze up around any violence that wasn’t pixelated. He’d always delivered on computers and logistics and analysis, though, and he’d saved Shaw’s ass more times than she could count. It’d just been years since she’d had anyone to cover her during a firefight.

So when Russian gunman No. 4 got in a lucky shot above her elbow and she lost her weapon, she had a fraction of a second to decide between diving for the gun beside one of his less fortunate friends (he’d had three bullets left if she’d counted right, which she had) and finding cover behind some conveniently-positioned construction equipment. Either option meant another bullet. She went with the first plan, bracing herself—but the next shot didn’t hit her.

She had her new gun pointed at the place where the Russian should have been before she’d processed that he was already down.

“Took you long enough,” she said as Reese walked up to stand over her.

He smirked, then looked at her arm. “You good to go?”

She’d need stitches, but they could wait. “Where are we headed?”

Instead of offering her a hand up, he hit his earpiece, and then they were off.

 

010

 

So this was awkward.

She’d fought her way out of worse situations, but Finch & Co. had an unspoken (well, okay, spoken, but only after last week’s incident in Times Square, and Shaw hadn’t _started_ that) policy about not damaging local law enforcement any more than necessary. And the woman was doing everything right, which made it more difficult; she kept her distance, she told Shaw to toss her gun over but didn’t bend to pick it up, and she didn’t take her eyes off Shaw for a second.

Shaw had her phone in one of the hands she was holding above her head. It rang, sudden and loud.

The detective didn’t so much as blink. “You got backup?” she asked. “Go ahead. Put it on speaker.”

Shaw did as she was told, trusting that Reese had been listening in and would choose his words carefully.

“Good morning, Joss.”

The detective’s eyebrows shot skyward. “John? You know this woman?”

“She’s with me,” he said. “Sameen Shaw, Detective Carter of the NYPD. You’ve met before.”

“Think I’d remember,” Shaw said, but Carter was frowning at her. 

“That was you? You look a lot better when you’re breathing.”

“Carter helped us out when we first met, Shaw,” Reese said. “Don’t be embarrassed for forgetting—I don’t think it counts as a formal introduction if one of you is unconscious.”

Carter was still frowning, but now she looked exasperated rather than confused. “So when you say she’s with you—“

“He’s exaggerating,” Shaw said. “Reese, when were you planning to tell me you had an NYPD detective in your pocket?”

“He doesn’t,” Carter said, but she lowered her gun. “And I’d really like to know when he was going to tell me we had ourselves another armed vigilante, but I’m guessing it has to wait?”

“Need you both at Sheridan Square,” Reese confirmed. “Now would be good.” He hung up.

They looked at one another for a moment. “So I’m thinking arrests first and drinks after,” Carter said.

Shaw grinned. “Sounds about right.”

Carter holstered her weapon. “And I get to be there when you meet Fusco.”

“Who’s Fusco?”

 

011

 

They’d just come back to the Library after a number. She hadn’t even taken her coat off and Finch was already reading her the riot act about civilian bystanders and the risk of collateral damage.

“…and even when it comes to admittedly dangerous and unrepentant criminals like the late Mr. Gordon, we operate on rather different principles than your former employers, Ms. Shaw. I really must insist yet again that you attempt to resolve at least some of these situations using less violent—or, at a bare minimum, less _lethal_ —means.” He turned to Reese, who had dropped into a chair with the book he’d set down when the Machine made contact. “Mr. Reese, perhaps a word from you would prove more effective.”

“Hmm?” Reese glanced up from _Principles of Investment Analysis and Portfolio Management_ , then looked obediently at Shaw. “Nice shot.”

“What?” Finch blinked.

“It was a nice shot,” Reese repeated, already back to his reading. “Not sure I could have made it, actually.” He turned the page.

Finch stared at him.

“We done here?” Shaw asked.

He was tight-lipped but resigned. “Apparently so.”

 

100

 

A wealthy, good-looking philanthropist was planning to knife a socialite at a charity ball and leave her body in the cloakroom. Shaw had chosen a conservative gown to avoid undue attention, but she’d also had to stick close to Mueller to keep an eye on him. Apparently Mueller was as good at multitasking as she was, because he’d been doing some staring of his own.

An hour into the event, he cornered her in a quiet side room. She held her purse to her chest, apparently to fend him off but really because she had to do _something_ with her hands to keep from strangling him. She was just supposed to stall for time while Finch gathered evidence.

She felt, more than heard, a man coming up behind her. Mueller took an alarmed step back. Shaw fought down a sigh. Reese was either here to tell her to not to kill the guy or to rescue her, and she wasn’t in the mood for either.

Instead he bowed politely. “Can I hold that for you, miss?”

She didn’t mean to smile at him—it just happened. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She handed Reese her purse and turned the smile on Mueller. This time he took two steps back. “Now, where were we?”

 

101

 

Dr. Cole had greying hair and a soft blue sweater. Shaw knew it was soft because her nose was shoved into the cowl.

“Thank you,” the older woman said, voice shaking. “God bless you, sweetheart.” Then she let go.

Shaw dropped her eyes from the photograph on their mantle. She’d spent the whole case avoiding it, because in addition to being huggers the Coles were the kind of people who’d tell a complete stranger all about their dead CIA hero of a son if she gave them half a chance. Shaw didn’t have time for that.

Instead she looked at Mr. Cole. He stood beside his wife, dazed, like he’d just figured out it was over. “We don’t even know you. How can we repay—“

“Stop taking loans from the Italian mafia,” Shaw said. “I’ve got to go.”

Reese met her by the car. She felt jumpy and exposed, which was ridiculous because they were on a quiet suburban street and they’d taken care of the threat.

“Get in,” he said.

It took her a second to realize she was standing on the passenger’s side. He’d opened the door for her. He never did that. He also never drove.

“Shaw,” he said, “get in.”

It was a two-hour drive, but after just fifteen minutes he pulled into a parking structure under a darkened office building. It was a nice, secure location. She had visual on all the points of entry.

“Is everything all right?” said Finch’s voice in her ear. “Mr. Reese?”

“Just fine.” Reese leaned across the armrest to take her phone out of her pocket. She wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, but her voice had stopped working and her hands were shaking in her lap. Reese took the battery out of her phone. “Having some trouble with Shaw’s comm. Give us a minute to fix it.”

He’d opened his door and was getting out. “What,” she started.

“Shouldn’t take long,” he said, to her or to Finch or to both. He closed the door and turned his back to the car. She could see the outline of the gun at his hip.

She didn’t understand what he was doing. She didn’t understand why her eyes were stinging, either, or what the tickle in her nose was. Maybe she was allergic to Dr. Cole’s sweater. And then she was curling forward in her seat and gasping for breath.

He was right. It didn’t take long. A few minutes later she dried her face, got out, and made her way to the other side of the car.

Reese turned to her and held out the phone. “That take care of it?”

She slid the battery back in and touched her ear. “Think so. Finch?”

“I hear you loud and clear, Ms. Shaw, but perhaps you’d better come back so I can run some tests. We wouldn’t want a glitch like that to occur in the middle of a case.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Reese said. “We’re on our way.” He handed her the keys.

 

  101  
+001  


 

Reese hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived at the rendezvous and found Finch’s glasses in a pool of blood.

They’d gone back to the Library to regroup and, Shaw assumed, to plan their next move. Except that once they made it upstairs he pulled a gun on her, so apparently he had something else in mind.

Old habits die hard, so she briefly considered the possibility that he’d turned on them and given the ISA Finch’s location. She shook herself out of it. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s just going to waste time.”

“Handcuffs in the desk drawer,” he replied.

“So that’s what you and Harold get up to when I’m out? Let me guess—he’s the kinky one.”

He was not amused. “You’re going to cuff yourself to the water pipes in the utility closet, and then I’m going to lock you in.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go after Finch.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Good luck finding him without me.”

“Hersh has him.”

“Kind of my point, Reese.”

“You’ve made it quite clear the Project is still a priority for you,” he said, soft and reasonable. “You won’t do anything to endanger it.”

She took a step. Not toward the desk. “And you’re planning to?”

“They know what he can do, and you know as well as anyone how they’re going to make him do it. So yes. I’m planning to endanger the Project, and national security, and anything else I have to. And I’d rather not kill you, Sam, but I’m not going to let you get in my way.”

“Don’t be an idiot, John.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Not what I meant,” she said, and took another step. This one brought her in range, and she had the gun out of his hand before he knew what she was doing. His fist caught her in the gut. She grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him toward her and twisting so they both went down but she came up on top, gun against his head. “Like I said. _Idiot_. You’re not thinking straight, or you wouldn’t have let me get away with that. “

He was breathing heavily, fear and desperation finally bleeding up to the surface. “Christ, Sam, they’ve taken him.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And they’ll have contingencies in place to hide him from the Machine, so your usual tricks won’t work. You can’t get him back on your own.”

“I have to try.”

“No, you don’t.” She stood up and tossed him the gun.

He looked down at it like he’d never seen one before. “What—”

“Stop panicking and fucking pay attention. I said I’m in. So where do we start?”

 

 


End file.
